The Real Mrs. Figg
by Ann Miller
Summary: Harry goes to Mrs. Figg's house for a weekend and finds out that there is more to her than what meets the eye.
1. A Weekend at Mrs. Figg's

A/N  
  
I finally edited this fanfic of mine that has been posted now for over a year. I had so many mistakes. This is my first (and only) fanfic that I ever wrote. I hope you like! Please be nice when reviewing!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character's yadda, yadda, yadda.

THE REAL MRS. FIGG  
  
Summer was always Harry Potter's least favorite time of the year. Summer meant spending two long months with his Muggle family, the Dursley's. Hogwarts had only let out two weeks ago and already Harry missed the wizard world. He missed it more than he ever had before now, knowing that the Dark Lord, Voldemort had risen.  
  
Not a night went by that Harry didn't have any nightmares, reliving the events that happened just weeks ago. Not a day went by without Harry seeing Cedric lying dead on the ground, over and over again in his mind. Harry jumped at every unusual sound he heard and everywhere he looks, he sees Voldemort, only to find out that it was just some stranger on the street.  
  
He needed his friends now more than ever. He anxiously awaited the arrival of Pig, Ron's owl, hoping that she would bring him a letter saying to go and stay with the Weasley's, but it still hasn't come.  
  
Harry longed for someone to talk to, but all he had were the Dursley's, who, if it was even possible, ignored him more than ever (Harry figured that it was due to their disturbing experience last summer. The Weasley's had came and the Dursley's house, blowing up a wall in the process. Not to mention Dudley's tongue ended up four feet long by the time the Weasley's had left.). They haven't said more than two words to him since he got back. That's why it was a bit of a shock that one night as Harry was crossing off a day on his countdown chart, Uncle Vernon called for him.  
  
Harry walked down to the living room, wondering if he was in trouble. Uncle Vernon was sitting on a chair, his back turned to Harry, eating popcorn and watching TV. He didn't even look at harry as he entered. Harry had to clear his throat to let Uncle Vernon know that he was in the room.  
  
"Pack your bags" He said finally, eyes still on the TV screen. "You're staying at Mrs. Figg's house for the weekend."  
  
"What!?" Harry shouted. He hated going to Mrs. Figg's house. Her house smelled like cats and she talked about nothing but them. "I'm not going there!!"  
  
He immediately regretted shouting like that because Uncle Vernon stood up to face him so suddenly that the bowl of popcorn he was eating toppled over. He looked so angry as he let out things that he had obliviously been holding in for a long time.  
  
"DON'T TALK BACK TO ME BOY" He roared. "WE'RE GOING CAMPING AND THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL THAT WE'LL LET A FREAK LIKE TAGGING ALONG!"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Uncle Vernon continued.  
  
"YOU'RE GOING TO MRS FIGG"S AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING FUNNY WHILE YOU'RE THERE."  
  
Harry tried to protest again but Uncle Vernon still was not finished.  
  
"AND NONE OF THAT, I'LL TELL MY GODFATHER CRAP 'CAUSE I AIN'T GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU WIZARD PEOPLE AND WHILE I'M ON THE SUBJECT, NEVER, EVER AGAIN ASK ABOUT THOSE WEASLEY FREAKS COMING TO MY HOME. YOU PROBABLY THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT LAST SUMMER BUT."  
  
He probably would of kept going if it wasn't for a shout from Dudley from upstairs in his room. As much as he loved hearing Harry get yelled at, it wasn't worth missing his favorite Friday night show.  
  
"We're leaving tomorrow morning," Uncle Vernon said, much more calmly. "Be ready."  
  
With that, he sat back down, eyes once again on the TV screen. Harry, who know better than to argue anymore, went back upstairs to his room, hearing sniggers from Dudley's room an the way.  
  
Harry gloomily packed enough of Dudley's old clothes to last him the weekend. He felt so stupid, being nearly 15 and having to go to a babysitter, but there was no way that the Dursley's would ever let him stay at their house alone.  
  
The next morning, Harry was woken up early by Aunt Petunia's banging on his door.  
  
"Get up," she shouted to him. "We've gotta take you to Mrs.Figg's."  
  
Harry groaned as he put his glasses on and got out of bed. Though he got up early, it was quite awhile until they finally left. Dudley kept insisting that he should bring his TV, not grasping the fact that there was no electricity in tents. Finally, he settled with bringing his little, black and white, potable TV, which uses batteries.  
  
Finally, they pulled out of the driveway. Just a minute later, they pulled up outside Mrs.Figg's house, two streets away.  
  
"Remember Harry, don't do anything funny," Uncle Vernon told Harry, as he got out of the car, bag in hand. As soon as Harry knocked on the front door of Mrs. Figg's house, the Dursley's drove off.  
  
Mrs. Figg answered the door after a few seconds went by.  
  
"Hello Harry," she said, letting him inside. "It's been a while. You haven't change a bit." She said, looking him over.  
  
Harry, feeling uncomfortable as Mrs. Figg examined him, looked at the floor. Because he did that, he didn't notice how Mrs. Figg's eyes stopped at his scar for a brief second.  
  
"You grew quite a bit," Mrs. Figg said, "You still have that awful hair though."  
  
Harry, embarrassingly, tried to pat his hair down.  
  
"Come in here and sit down," she said, gesturing towards the living room.  
  
Harry went to a sofa and sat down, only to jump up again with a yell.  
  
"Oh, it's only Boots," Mrs. Figg said as Boots, Mrs. Figg's favorite cat ran off. Harry never liked Boots. Boots was a black cat who always seemed to stare at Harry with those yellow, creepy eyes of his.  
  
Harry gave a week smile and sat down.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Figg said excitedly, "You wouldn't believe how many cats I've had since I last saw you." She went over to a book shelf and pulled out a huge photo album, then took a seat next to Harry.  
  
As she was showing Harry pictures of all sorts of cats, he thought gloomily to himself that this would be an awful weekend. And he was right.  
  
He spent the weekend hearing stories about every cat that Mrs. Figg has ever owned, helping her groom the cats of hers, and playing with them. She even made him take Boots for a walk. Harry still had a funny feeling about Boots. Something about him seemed strange. Boots really gave Harry the creeps. By the time it was Sunday evening, Harry was almost happy to see the Dursley's come to pick him up.  
  
Harry took so many showers that week, trying to get cat smell off of him. He glad to be away from Mrs. Figg and hoped he wouldn't have to go back for a long time.  
  
But, when Friday came along again, Uncle Vernon came to Harry's room to tell him that they were going to go to see Aunt Marge that weekend and that he would have to go to Mrs. Figg's house again.  
  
Harry thought that this was very strange because the Dursley's rarely went on trips and now they were suddenly going two weekends in a row? It just didn't seem right. He didn't want to go to Mrs. Figg's again, but there was no way out of it. The next day harry was back at her house.  
  
After a long Saturday, finding out everything that he didn't want to know about Mrs. Figg's very first cat, he went to the guestroom where he was sleeping. He got in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.  
  
Harry was dreaming wonderful dream where he was back at Hogwarts and playing in the Quidditch finals. He had just spotted the snitch when something jumped on him, waking him up instantly. He opened his eyes to see glowing, yellow eyes staring at him.  
  
"Get off of me Boots," he said, shoving him off of him. Boots disappeared into the darkness.  
  
Harry tried to get back asleep but couldn't. His throat had gone dry so he got up to get a drink.  
  
As he passed the door that leads into the living room, he heard voices. He peeked inside and saw Mrs. Figg. Her back was facing him and she was looking at the lighted fireplace. She was talking to someone, yet Harry didn't see anyone else, nor was she holding a phone. Harry listened closely, trying to make out what was being said.  
  
"He's here," he made out the words that Mrs. Figg was saying, "Don't worry. He's where you want him."  
  
Harry heard muffled sounds of another voice but couldn't make anything out.  
  
"I'm taking care of it," Mrs. Figg continued, "Harry doesn't suspect a thing."  
  
Harry gasped as he heard this. He gasped a bit to loud because Mrs. Figg suddenly stopped talking.  
  
"I heard something. Gotta go." She said. She put out the fire and everything became dark. Harry could hear her footsteps approaching the door. Quickly, Harry went into the hallway closet to hide, leaving the door open just enough for him to peek through.  
  
"Hello," came Mrs. Figg's voice, sounding dangerously close. "Harry?"  
  
Harry could make out an outline of her as she stopped in front of the closet. Then she did something that almost made Harry cry out in shock. She rose something in the air and said, "Lumos" and light suddenly shown in the hallway. Harry couldn't believe it. In her hands was a wand, which meant that she was a witch!  
  
Mrs. Figg looked around a little more, then walked away. Harry, afraid to come out of his hiding place, still couldn't believe it. Mrs. Figg, a witch! All these years that Harry had known her he never would of guessed. Harry's shock was quickly replaced with fear. He was alone with her, with no wand or weapon of any kind. Who was she talking to? What was she taking care of? These questions troubled Harry. All he knew was that she couldn't be good. She was probably a death eater, he thought, waiting for the perfect time to kill him.  
  
Harry wasn't going to let that happen. He slowly opened the closet door and crept out. Suddenly the lights went on and Mrs Figg was standing right in front of him.  
  
"Hello Harry," she said with a twisted smile on her face. 


	2. The Truth about Mrs. Figg

The Real Mrs. Figg (Part 2)  
  
Disclaimer- I own nothing Harry Potter related.  
  
  
  
Harry stopped dead in his tracks. This is it, he thought when he saw her wand in her hand. I'm going to die.  
  
"How long have you been there?" Mrs. Figg asked Harry, eyeing him closely.  
  
"Long enough to find out the truth about you." Harry worked up the courage to say. "I know that you're a witch."  
  
Mrs. Figg gave Harry an evil look when he said this.  
  
"You weren't supposed to find out."  
  
"Well I did. I know that you're a death eater." Harry said, sounding more brave then he felt.  
  
Mrs. Figg started to laugh. "You think I'm a death eater?"  
  
Then, without warning, Mrs. Figg came towards Harry. Harry, thinking quickly, kicked her leg that she had broken a few years ago with all his might. Mrs. Figg let out a cry of pain and fell to the ground, dropping her wand. Before she could get up again, he grabbed the wand and ran past her. He kept running until he reached the guestroom. He went inside and locked the door. As he started to gather up his things, he could her Mrs. Figg coming and she started banging on the door,  
  
"Let me in Harry. You don't know what you're doing," she shouted, still banging on the door.  
  
Harry ignored her as he went to a window, bag and wand in hand, and tried to open it up. It was stuck. Harry pulled with all his might but the window would not open. Harry was getting really worried. He could no longer hear Mrs. Figg and was afraid that she may have gone to get the key for the door.  
  
Harry was still yanking at the window when he heard the rustling of keys. Mrs. Figg was back. He gave one hard tug when the window creaked open an inch or two.  
  
"Yes!" Harry said to himself as he managed to get the window open, an inch at a time. It was almost open enough for him to get through when Boots came out from under the bed and pounced on Harry's face, scratching him deeply and causing him to fall over, dropping his things.  
  
"Get off of me you stupid cat." Harry screamed. He threw Boots off of him, but before he could get up again, Mrs. Figg opened the door.  
  
She looked very angry. Harry, still on the ground, dove for the wand, which had rolled between him and Mrs. Figg but she was quicker. She grabbed the wand before he had the chance to.  
  
Mrs. Figg rose the wand into the air and Harry shout his eyes, knowing what was coming. As he heard Mrs. Figg mutter and incantation, he thought about his best friends, Ron and Hermione, wondering what they were doing at the moment, wishing he were with them.  
  
The seconds ticked by. Mrs. Figg was done saying the incantation, yet he didn't feel any pain. In fact, not even his face where Boots scratched him hurt anymore. Harry, eyes still closed, raised his hand to his face and felt no cuts. They were gone!  
  
Slowly, Harry opened his eyes. Mrs. Figg was still in front of him, wand at her side.  
  
"Does your face feel better now?" she asked Harry.  
  
Harry, feeling very confused, managed to choke out, "Wh- Who are you?"  
  
Mrs. Figg gave Harry a stern look. "You know who I am."  
  
So she is a death eater, Harry thought. He franticly looked around the room, trying to find some way to escape but found none. The only ways out was the door Mrs. Figg was blocking or the window that still needed to be opened a few inches. He was trapped.  
  
"I'm Mrs. Figg," Mrs. Figg continued. "Your cranky old neighbor who has a thing for cats."  
  
Harry, still eyeing the door decided to try to keep her talking, hoping beyond hope that some sort of help would arrive.  
  
"No. You're not." Harry said firmly. "You're- You're a witch"  
  
"You say it like it's a bad thing," Mrs. Figg said, looking slightly hurt. "Yes, I am a witch but I am still the Mrs. Figg you've come to know after all these years."  
  
"You're not the same," Harry said, terror building up inside of him. "You're evil."  
  
"I'm not evil, Harry," Mrs. Figg said calmly.  
  
"Then why were you talking about me to someone in the fire?"  
  
"I wasn't talking to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named if that's what you mean. I was talking to Dumbledore."  
  
Harry felt his jaw drop when she said this. Why would she be talking about me like that to Dumbledore, he wondered. He couldn't decide whether or not to believe her.  
  
"Why should I believe you?" He asked Mrs. Figg accusingly. "Why should I believe you when all these years you made me think you were a Muggle?"  
  
Mrs. Figg sighed and walked over to the bed and sat down. Her doing this left an open path to the door but Harry didn't move, partly because he was frozen in terror but mostly because he wanted answers.  
  
"Harry," Mrs. Figg began, "You really weren't supposed to find out about me, but now that you know you deserve to know everything."  
  
Harry just stared at her, not sure if he was staring at an enemy or an ally.  
  
"I guess I should start back when I was at Hogwarts."  
  
"You went to Hogwarts?" Harry interrupted.  
  
Mrs. Figg smiled. "It seems so long ago, but yes, I did. Albus and me were great friends back then. We were the same age and both in Gryffindor, so we saw a lot of each other."  
  
Harry stared at Mrs. Figg in disbelief. He had noticed how old Dumbledore looked but Mrs. Figg, though she looked old, didn't look that old. Then of course, Harry thought, she could be lying.  
  
"We did everything together." Mrs. Figg went on. "We were even going to be head boy and girl together. People always would say that we would end up getting married but we were just friends. It was never anything more. Even if it was, we never found out because the summer before my last year at Hogwarts, I met Robert Figg." Mrs. Figg gave a smile as she said this.  
  
"That was a wonderful summer. We feel so much in love in those two months that I was home. There was just one problem."  
  
"He was a Muggle." Harry, who was starting to forget his fear, interrupted.  
  
"Yea." Mrs. Figg said sadly. "All summer I tried to tell him the truth about me. I just couldn't. I didn't want to lose him. I didn't want to leave him. For the first time in my life I dreaded the day I'd have to go back to Hogwarts. I wished the summer would last forever, but of course, it didn't. Robert took me out the night before I would go back to school. He knew I was leaving for school, just not what kind of school. It was a sad night. We just held each other, wanting to never let go. Then, just before he took me home, he asked me to marry him. The poor guy thought he did something wrong because when he asked I started to cry. I cried so hard."  
  
Mrs. Figg looked like she was going to cry as she said this. The look in her eyes told Harry that it was a bit painful remembering this.  
  
"That night," Mrs. Figg continued, "I told him everything. About the school I was really going to and about what I was. Well, he kind of freaked out on me. He thought I was crazy. He said that as much as he loved me he just couldn't marry a witch. Later that night, while I was home crying in bed, with all my Hogwarts things packed and ready to go, I made a decision that changed my life forever. I decided not to go back to Hogwarts and to follow my heart. It was such a hard decision because I was a very good witch. I probably could of gotten any job I wanted once I graduated."  
  
"Why would you do that? Why would you give up everything just to be with a guy who didn't accept you for who you are?" Harry asked. He had completely lost his fear by now. Mrs. Figg's story was so convincing. Of course, he thought, maybe she didn't get to the part where she becomes evil yet.  
  
"I asked myself that so many times and even wondered if I made the right decision. But Harry, you're to young to understand how powerful love can be. It'll make you do things that you wouldn't ever even dream of. Anyway, I locked up all my witch supplies and married Robert. We never again mentioned anything that was said that night. I've lived as a Muggle ever since."  
  
Harry knew that this made sense. It explained why Mrs. Figg was very convincing as a Muggle. Yet, there were still many questions in Harry's head.  
  
"What happened to Mr. Figg? I don't remember ever meeting him."  
  
"Well, you couldn't of, Harry. Mr. Figg died a year before you were born. Unfortunately, he was one of the many Muggle victims of the death eaters."  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked, very interested in the story.  
  
"He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time I guess. One of the death eaters was bored and decided to attacked an innocent Muggle." Mrs. Figg said, a bit angrily. "After he died, I felt so lost and alone. I never really belonged in the Muggle world, yet it had been to many years since I was part of the magic world. That's why I have so many cats. They keep me company. I also got Boots," as she said this she looked down at her feet and Harry noticed for the first time that Boots was lying at her feet. "I got him at the Magical Menegerie at Diagon Alley. I needed something magical in my life. I also tool out my witch supplies and started to do some magic again and found out that I hadn't lost my touch."  
  
Even though Harry believed Mrs. Figg's story, he still had no idea what any of it had to do with him. As if Mrs. Figg read his mind, she said,  
  
"I had my company and magic again, but I needed more. That's where you come in, Harry. I found out about this job. A boy whose parents had died and somehow caused the fall of You-Know-Who, was living with his Muggle family. This boy is very special and no one wanted harm to come upon him, especially because everyone knew that not all the death eaters were caught, and he was must likely wanted dead. A witch or wizard needed to be near him at all times, keeping an eye on him and acting like a Muggle neighbor. Albus is the one who told me about the job and even though I never finished school, he managed to pull a few strings and I got the job."  
  
"So all this time you were looking out for me?" Harry asked, feeling overwhelmed with all he heard.  
  
"Yes, I have been. There just had to be someone magical near you who would know how to protect you. I was perfect for the job, already living as a Muggle and all. All the times you came over here was a way for me to really make sure you were doing fine. Now that You-Know-Who has risen the Dursley's are going to be taking a lot of weekend trips." Mrs. Figg said, smiling.  
  
"So magic is the reason they're suddenly taking so many?" Harry asked, now understanding why the Dursley's were taking more trips than usual.  
  
"Yes. It was Dumbledore's idea. He's so worried about you. It took me forever to convince him earlier tonight that you were fine."  
  
"So when you were saying you were taking care of it, you meant you were taking care of looking out for me?" Harry said, more of a statement then a question.  
  
"Yea, I was. So, do you believe me now or do you still think I'm a death eater?"  
  
Harry smiled, "I believe you."  
  
The rest of the summer was great after that night. Harry was no longer so afraid. The nightmares became less. He soon started to look forward to the weekends. Now that Harry knew the truth about Mrs. Figg, it was a lot nicer at her house. There wasn't much cat talk anymore and Boots stopped giving harry the wiggins. Mrs. Figg helped Harry with his homework and Harry found out that she was really good at magic. It also turned out that Mrs. Figg was the seeker for her Quidditch team. She gave Harry a lot of pointers. They were growing very close. It was kind of like she was the grandma Harry never had.  
  
On the last weekend Harry was going to be there, he got a shock when the door was answered after he knocked.  
  
"Dumbledore!?!" Harry said, surprised, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Come inside, Harry." He said quietly. "We need to talk"  
  
A bad feeling suddenly hit Harry hard in the stomach. What was going on? Why was Dumbledore here? Where was Mrs. Figg?  
  
Harry followed Dumbledore into the living room where Dumbledore had started a fire in the fireplace.  
  
"Harry," He said after awhile. "You are to go to the Weasley's for the remainder of the summer. They already have your things and the Dursley's will be informed."  
  
"What?" Harry said, greatly confused. "Why? Where's Mrs. Figg?"  
  
Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly. "Mrs. Figg passed away earlier the morning."  
  
Harry froze. "Wh-What"  
  
"She's dead, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly. "Voldemort came looking for you. Mrs. Figg was to old to fight him."  
  
Harry felt tears come to his eyes, but he didn't even try to hide it.  
  
"No" He said loudly, "She can't be dead. She can't." Tears were now falling.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "I'm so sorry, but nothing can be done."  
  
Harry couldn't believe it. She can't be dead, he kept telling himself. She was good.  
  
"Harry, "Dumbledore said, reaching out a hand with floo powder out at him. "You better go. You need your friends now."  
  
But Harry didn't move.  
  
"Why?" He asked, more to himself than to Dumbledore. "Why is it that everyone I meet has to die?" He was now shaking from being so upset.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore said, soothingly. Then he did something that shocked Harry.  
  
Dumbledore went to Harry and put his arms around him for a hug. It was only then that Harry remembered that Dumbledore was friends with Mrs. Figg too.  
  
"I'm so sorry." Harry cried. "I shouldn't have gone near her and put her in danger."  
  
"Whatever you do, Harry," Dumbledore said, breaking the hug, but keeping his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Don't blame yourself. That will cause you to separate yourself from the people you need the most."  
  
"How can I not?" harry asked, tears still falling. "How can I not blame myself when so many people died because of me? Mom, Dad, Cedric, and now Mrs. Figg? How many more will there be?"  
  
"Harry, remember that most of them died saving you. You should be grateful. They gave their lives for you because they care about you. They didn't die because of you, they died because they love you, and it was the right thing to do."  
  
Harry's tears stopped falling then. They looked at each other in silence for a few moments until a meow broke the silence. Boots walked up to Harry and rubbed against his leg.  
  
"Looks like someone needs a new owner," Dumbledore said.  
  
Harry picked Boots up, who purred in his arms.  
  
"Here Harry," Dumbledore said, once again reaching out his hand full of floo powder.  
  
Harry took it this time, went to the fireplace with Boots in his arms and said The Burrow and without a look back, he left the house that smells like cats forever. 


End file.
